


he's thunderstorms

by mundaneanarchy



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mundaneanarchy/pseuds/mundaneanarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Newt maybe possibly has a teeny tiny itsy bitsy almost microscopic crush on a certain grumpy old mathematician and Hermann falls and can't get up. Angsty pining ensues. (explicit for chapter 2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to the Arctic Monkey's _She's Thunderstorms_ (genderswapped for obvious reasons) and also a reference to [this](http://8tracks.com/alicepleasance/he-s-thunderstorms) Newt/Hermann mix I made.  
>  I did a little research and can't seem to find how Hermann's leg(s) was/were hurt or even what leg was hurt. I guessed his right leg given the position of his cane. I also read somewhere that he could have MS instead of being specifically hurt, and incorporated that in here just as a last-minute change. If anyone has further knowledge I'd love to know. You can talk to me on here or on tumblr (my url is currently djangofreeman.tumblr.com). Also, I wasn't totally sure about the rooms? I'm guessing they each have their own tiny washroom somewhere in there. They could have a communal shower, I guess, but for fictional purposes I'm just gonna incorporate some random headcanons of my own.  
> I was trying to write this in Newt's voice? Like, isolated third person sort of. I hope it comes across that way and not just me being an obnoxious narrator.  
> More to come, obviously. I'm not going to let these two geniuses be idiots for the rest of their lives. This'll be relatively short and consistency is not my strong point so don't get too excited.

So, it starts with a crash.

Well, not really. I mean, it starts with a ‘hello’ if anything. It depends what’s starting. The story starts with Newt being born, obviously, though classifying life as a story is more of an existential question than anything else. The story of the Kaiju starts with a scream. The story of Newt and the Kaiju starts with a needle. The story of Hermann starts with a scowl.

But, technically, the story of Newt-and-Hermann starts with a crash, I guess.

Right.

Okay.

So.

It starts with a crash.

…

Newt’s minding his own goddamn business. He’s walking through the corridors, second can of Red Bull of the day in hand, and he’s doing that thing he tends to do when he’s angry, which is practicing in his head all the things he’ll say to Hermann when he gets to the lab, because, duh, of course he’s mad at Hermann. Again. Around three AM this morning Hermann had wandered into the lab because he’d forgotten something or whatever and totally went off on Newt for still being up, saying shit about how it was pointless to ruin himself on experiments that are never going to be useful anyhow. And obviously Newt took things way out of proportion and started screaming at Hermann, who stayed rigid and infuriating even half-asleep, and in the end stormed out, leaving a few kaiju entrails on Hermann’s side on purpose. He ends up slamming the door to his room a little too loudly and lying in bed, shaking with fury and unable to get any sleep with the knowledge he had only been halfway through that stupid experiment.

And, yeah, maybe he lingers a little where he knows Hermann’s apartment is. Maybe he walks a little slower. If only just to glare at it and make a face it he sincerely hopes no one else sees.

That’s when the crash happens.

Newt stops in his tracks when he hears Hermann yelp a little and swear and, like. Wow. Shit. He’d never heard Hermann swear before, even if it was behind a giant metal door.

Against his better judgment, he sighs and approaches the door, knocking a few times. “Hermann? Bud? You okay in there?”

“Yes, of course, I’m—” Newt can almost envision Hermann screwing up his mouth in that way he does when he gets angry that Newt definitely doesn’t think is adorable. “No. Christ. I’m not. I may acquire some…assistance.”

Newt uses the key he swiped from maintenance that he knows for a fact opens every door in the Shatterdome (what? He needs it. Science shit or whatever.) to open the door and looks around the tiny room, which seems to have no Hermann in sight. Newt’s pretty sure he’s not hiding, too, because there isn’t a lot of room in these shitty little compartments to hide. He knows. He’s tried.

“Hey, dude, where are you?”

“In the lavatory!”

Newt rolls his eyes. The antiquated old prick. “What, Hermie? D’you break your hip trying to fish that stick out of your ass?”

“If you’re going to insult me I’d prefer you to send for some actual help, Dr. Geiszler!”

“No, no, calm your old, rickety bones. I’ll be right there. Just hold—” Newt stops dead in his tracks when he opens the door and sees Hermann crumpled up in the shower, tangled up in the curtains. For a world-class genius, somehow Newt had failed to create a correlation in his head between bathroom : shower : nudity. So, yeah. There he was, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, right in front of Newt, in all of his naked glory.

If Newt stares a little, then it’s not his fault, right? I mean, it would surprise anyone to just see someone they’ve grown relatively close to over the years naked just out of the blue like that. _Friends_ had a whole episode about it and everything.

But between Newt and the kaiju guts he sometimes whispers his secrets to when it gets to that hour where the lab is spooky and ethereal and there’s nothing keeping Newt up except a ridiculous amount of candy and his sixth cup of coffee, Newt maybe has a sort of not really kind of a little itty bitty crush on a certain K-science math whiz. It’s not _that_ big of a deal, really, just that Newt had read all of Hermann’s papers on the kaiju specimen while he was in university and when he had met him really came to like the dumb, smug smile he’d get when he cracked a really tough problem or the awesome insults Hermann would come up with on the spot—they hurt, but they were also kind of badass in a super nerdy way. It’s not as if Newt jacks off thinking about Hermann’s slender fingers or the way he chews on his lower lip when he’s particularly perplexed or the thought of him begging Newt for more, God, more, please, more, Newton...

Well. Not that often, anyway.

Seeing one’s lab partner covered by nothing but his shaking hands would be enough to make anyone stare a little.

“Enjoying the show, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann snaps, breaking Newt out of his embarrassing trance.

“Right. Sorry. Just—didn’t know you’d be, uh. You know. And all.” Newt coughs and immediately directs his eyes toward the floor.

“Yes. Well.” Hermann grits his teeth together. “This is slightly disconcerting, to say the least, but I had just finished taking a shower and fell and my damned leg gave out. As awkward as I understand this is, it would mean a considerable amount to me if you would perhaps put our previous altercations aside and help me up.”

“Jesus Christ, fine, I’ll help you, you don’t need to give me a whole friggin’ speech,” Newt rolls his eyes. He grabs a towel and throws it at Hermann. “Just try to put this on, okay? This is already weird enough.”

Hermann makes a petulant sound but dons the towel without further argument. Even with the towel covering mostly everything, Newt can’t bear to focus on anything but at the tiled floor with complete and total determination. He holds out hands and allows Hermann to use him as support—Jesus, why is he so light? When did he get so skinny?—and chooses not to comment on the fact that he can see the outline of that thin ribcage through pale, luminous skin.

If Newt hadn’t been the most silent he’s ever been in the last five years, he would have missed the faintest mumble of a “Thank you, Newton” from the moronic mathematician to his right.

Newt helps him to his bed and sits him down. He spies a plaid bathrobe hanging up on the bedpost and tosses it onto Hermann’s lap. “Here, dude.” He turns around to give Hermann the privacy to put it on and smirks a little to himself. “Jesus, of course you have a bathrobe.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” Newt smiles as sweetly and nonthreateningly as he can. “You okay?”

“Yes. I believe so.” Hermann kneads his fingers into his injured leg, wincing in slight pain. “I apologize if I may have been curt earlier. Sometimes my MS tends to flare up and cause me to act a bit…unsavory.”

Newt bites his tongue to stop himself from making a crack about how that explains the last five years then, huh. Instead, he just takes a seat next to Hermann on the bed and says, “You shouldn’t work yourself so hard, man. This job’ll kill you if you do.”

“It’ll kill us all if I don’t.” Hermann smiles somberly at Newt and, Jesus fucking Christ, he’s never been in love with this ridiculous, stupid, difficult genius more in his goddamn life. He’s never wanted to dig his nails into anyone else’s skin or tangle his fingers in the lame polyester-cotton mix fabric of anyone else’s ugly bathrobe or take the air out of anyone else’s lungs as badly as he does right now.

“God, Hermann,” he says, and he visibly sees the man brace himself for another childish insult. It almost makes it twice as delicious to lean forward and kiss him with everything Newt’s got.

Newt’s so caught up in his own head, realizing he hasn’t done this in a long time and are his lips even moving right and where should he put his hands and, Christ, he doesn’t still have coffee breath does he—that he nearly doesn’t evennotice when Hermann places a tentative hand on Newt’s cheek. But when he does—when he feels that burning sensation of a shaking hand cupping his jaw carefully and with a ridiculous amount of adoration—his entire body goes numb and he totally melts into Hermann without a second thought. He grips the lapels of Hermann’s oddly pristine bathrobe and shivers with intensity against the other man, kissing desperate and hot and obsessive, like he’s looking for an answer he can’t find in the most gorgeously undisturbed kaiju specimen there is. And Hermann is kissing him _back_ , God, he can’t believe he’s kissing Hermann Gottlieb and more importantly that he’s kissing him _back_. This is Christmas, this is his very first Halloween, this is HalloChristmas, this is a fully-functioning Kaiju brain in mint condition wrapped in a bow and delivered on a giant silk pillow. This is _Hermann Fucking Gottlieb_ kissing _Newton Fucking Geiszler_.

And it’s going great, it’s going awesome, it’s going fucking fantastic, it’s going HalloChristmas—until Newt moves one of his hands to thread his fingers through the Hermann’s hand which is clutching his duvet for dear life and then suddenly it’s not going. And Newton Geiszler is a genius, one of the smartest men in the world, but it still takes him a full ten seconds to realize that Hermann Gottlieb is not kissing him back anymore. He pulls back when he feels Hermann remove the hand from his face and slip his other hand out from under Newt’s grasp to hold themselves in his lap. Hermann seems to fold into himself and square his shoulders defensively. Newt bumps his forehead against Hermann’s almost a little aggressively and breathes heavily against the other man’s pursed lips.

“Newton—Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann whispers unsteadily through a clenched jaw and Newton swears to god, he’s never felt his stomach drop more harshly than it does at that moment. Those tacked on three syllables ache in his chest and punch him right in the gut. He will later protest the very notion that tears prick at the corners of his eyes like tiny arrows slowly ripping him apart. “This is hardly professional.”

Newt squeezes his eyes shut so tight he can see tiny stars form behind his eyelids. His whole body shakes a little with sadness and anger and god knows what else.

“Right. No. Of course.”

He clenches his fist and grits his teeth and somehow finds the strength within himself to remove himself from the warmth of Hermann’s bed. He walks out the door and manages not to slam it. He does not—does _not_ —look back.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The silence in the lab the next day is fucking deafening._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was!!!! so rushed oh my god im not happy with it all and im so sorry but I just got so anxious for them to kiss and make up I totally was going to make this a super PG i love you/i hate you/i love you again ordeal with an actual story or plotline but I got super carried away and this came out and im so so super sorry omg okay yeah so basically it gets rated R from here on im really sorry

The silence in the lab the next day is fucking deafening. It pounds in Newt’s head; it reverberates through his ribcage; it tears at his vocal chords. He has to stop at least twice to brace himself over the lab table and just remind himself to breathe.

He hasn’t seem Hermann all day. And he’s been here since…last night. Christ. He hasn’t slept in almost forty-eight hours.

Every time he closes his eyes he sees Hermann, fucking Hermann, stupid and ridiculous and gorgeous and helpless and innocent and totally taken advantage of.

Newt’s figurative pain turns into physical pain as he opens his eyes to see some unidentified blue gunk burning through his hand. He forgets for a second that he’s a human being capable of actual human pain and wonders for a second what the causes of the burning sensation could be and how he could possibly study that further. Thankfully common sense kicks in at some point or another because Newt is running over to the emergency disinfecting station and is swearing vigorously as he watches blue goo spiral down the drain sadly in spite of himself.

“Good God, Newton, what have you done to yourself this time?”

Newt’s shoulders tense up and his breath catches in his throat. He hears the uneven tapping of a cane at an irregularly fast pace and he nearly faints when he feels long, spindly fingers snatch his wrist.

“You bloody _fool_ ,” Hermann hisses, and Newton hopes to god there aren’t literal broken cartoon hearts in his eyes. “What is this? How did you do this?”

“I’m sorry,” Newt says meekly. “I was just dissecting a kaiju lung and I got distracted and got a bit of this blue stuff on me and—”

“Why are you apologizing to me? Don’t apologize to me, you berk. You _never_ apologize to me.”

Newt just gapes at Hermann like an idiot. “I just…Hermann, I…”

Hermann’s mouth twists up and he seems to realize that he’s still clutching Newt’s wrist for dear life. He jerks his hand back like he’s reacting to a burn and takes a full step back. Newt stares as Hermann seems to shrivel into himself and grips his cane so tightly his knuckles turn white. He tucks his chin and says quietly, “See to it that it doesn’t happen again.” He hesitates for a second, glancing back to the red mark on Newt’s skin, before retreating back to his blackboard. He hunches his shoulders up and lets out a shaky breath before picking up his chalk and marking up his chalkboard with more aggression than usual.

Newt thinks about going back to his station, staying on his side of the lab for the rest of his life, pining for afar for another billion years, having to put up with this terrible, aching, heart-wrenching, pain-inducing silence and never getting to bicker with his favourite genius in the whole entire world. And he swears to god he has no memory of those next five seconds, but the next thing he knows he’s standing way too close to Hermann and whispering in an empty room.

“Listen, Herms, about last night…”

“I’ve asked you _repeatedly_ not to call me that,” Hermann says tensely.

“I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_. God, I’m so fucking sorry, Herms—Hermann—Dr. Gottlieb.” Newt squeezes his eyes shut and digs the heels of his hands against his eyelids before dragging them up to his hair and tugging at the ends. Hermann clenches his jaw and turns around, hating himself for the amount of pity he feels for this idiot who has caused him nothing but annoyance and rage from the very first time they met. “I fuck everything up. I’m a total fuck-up. I haven’t been able to do a single thing right since pre-K. I couldn’t even get you to like me.” Newt laughs bitterly and Hermann’s pulse twitches. “I’m just a stupid idiot who got here on luck and adrenaline and pseudo-intellect and now you have to put up with me every goddamn day and I’m _sorry_ , I’m sorry for fighting with you and yelling at you and calling you a cotton headed ninny muggins that one time—you’re not, you’re really not, it was the heat of the moment—and for kissing you and for having this dumb, dumb, stupid, dumb, idiotic, big, dumb crush on you. I’m so so so so so so so so _so_ _fucking sorry_. I just have this thing where my brain and my mouth can’t seem to cooperate so instead of saying ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘You’re right’ I end up telling you to go suck a kaiju dick or calling you a grown up Jimmy Neutron except less fun. And that’s _shitty_ of me. That’s really, really shitty. And I hate myself for it. I do, I swear to god. I just need you to tell me it’s okay or call me a dumb name because I can’t take this—this _silence_. I can’t sit here surrounded by all this awesome kaiju goo working with the most perfect, ridiculous man in the world who won’t even speak to me. I can’t. I like you too much, doc. I really, really, _really_ do.”

Hermann lifts his chin and stands up as straight as he can and it makes Newt feel tiny but he loves it. He loves how Hermann tries to look tough even though Newt knows for a fact it hurts his legs to put so much weight on them and he loves the funny way he clenches his jaw to seem serious and his crooked glasses he seems to never have time to fix and just his dumb stupid moron _face_. He loves him and he hates him and he hates himself but mainly he _loves_ him. Like a total fucking moron, he fucking _loves_ him.

“Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says, and Newt feels his whole body deflate like the idiot he is. What did he want, fucking Ryan Gosling hanging off a ferris wheel for him? Fucking Leonardo DiCaprio drowning to save him? What a tool. What an absolute goddamn tool he is to think anyone could love him. “I accept your apology.” Hermann sticks out his hand for a handshake and Newt wants to rip it off, wants to take it and kiss every inch of his stupid spindly fingers, wants to hold it so hard he breaks every bone in Hermann’s hand and cry into his skin and beg him just to pretend to love him. Just to make it up.

But he doesn’t.

He takes Hermann’s hand.

And he shakes it.

Up.

Down.

Like the good scientist he is.

And he’s so focused on being a good scientist, it takes him a full ten seconds to process Hermann’s trimmed nails digging into Newt’s skin, getting a firm grip on his hand before slamming him against him and dropping his cane to wrap his other hand around Newt’s neck and lean on him for support, and smashing their lips together so hard their teeth click and Hermann is almost certainly trying to hurt him. And Newt doesn’t even care that it’s obvious Hermann’s only done this a few times before, maybe even less than Newt, or that he has to stand rock solid so Hermann doesn’t lose his balance, or that he has to put his hands on the side of Hermann’s face and urge him wordlessly to slow down and ease him into a gentler, more pleasurable kiss (he really doesn’t even mind that bit at all, to be honest).

It’s suddenly HalloChristmas part II, it’s Hermann Fucking Gottlieb _initiating_ a kiss with Newton Fucking Geiszler. Newt thinks for a second that if they got married, they wouldn’t even bother with that whole who-takes-whose-name deal or that tedious hyphenated nonsense. He thinks they’d both just change their surnames to Motherfucker. Much cleaner.

And then Newt remembers, Jesus Christ, he’s making out with the guy, not proposing, and he goes back to what he does best.

Newt moves his hands to Hermann’s waist, backing him up to the nearest lab table. He bumps his hips against Hermann’s and kisses him a little more insistently, sliding his hands down into unfamiliar territory. He digs his fingers into the back of Hermann’s thighs and lifts, throwing him onto the surface and trying—and, admittedly, failing, a little bit—to be sexy as hell at the same time. Hermann squawks and scrabbles at his shoulders.

“Don’t manhandle me, you insufferable—”

Newt grins against Hermann’s lips, leaning up on his tip toes to drag him back into another kiss. “Shut up, dude, I’m just trying to get a position where you don’t have to put too much weight on your legs but I can still rock your world.”

Hermann scowls heavily but doesn’t resist the kiss. Newt opens one eye and smiles even wider when he sees that his cheeks are just the slightest bit red.

Newt quickly moves his fingers to rest on Hermann’s knees and inches them up further slowly and carefully. He feels a rush of blood run straight to his cock when Hermann makes a small, needy sound from the back of his throat as his hands get closer and closer to his upper thigh. He makes quick work of unbuckling Hermann’s belt, wanting initially to drag it out and make the man who’s caused him the most pain to suffer as much as possible, but becomes so impatient he can’t hold himself back a second more. Hermann’s hands fly to the edges of the table and clutch it desperately as Newt palms his crotch through the thick layer of his underwear.

“Boxer briefs?” Newt bites his lip and grins. “Interesting.”

“Are you m-mocking my choice of underwear, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann says, still a pissy little bitch with his cock in Newt’s fucking hand.

“Wow, seriously? Gonna use my full title even when I’m about to suck your dick? You are such a nerd, you know that?” Newt laughs and snaps the elastic band of Hermann’s underwear. “I just always pegged you as a tidy whities kind of guy.”

“Been thinking about what’s in my pants often, Newton?”

Newt wants to say something witty back but his face goes all hot and, Christ, Hermann is the face of sex right now with his eyes screwed tight and his breathing all uneven and heavy and Newt’s never wanted anyone inside him more. But: priorities are priorities. “All the fucking time,” he says huskily before pressing a kiss to Hermann’s hip that’s more bite than anything and trailing his lips down the fabric of those stupid boxer briefs. Newt really hopes he can get naked soon, too, partly because of the hard-on he’s had since Hermann slammed their hips together, but mainly because he’s wearing his favorite pair of boxers with the kaiju pattern he knows Hermann would absolutely hate. But right now he’s focusing on Hermann’s cock and his cock only and he can’t get over how hot it would be to have Hermann open in front of him while he’s fully clothed.

He presses his mouth, hot and wet, against Hermann’s crotch and trails his tongue along to trace the outline of his dick. Hermann throws his head back and moans, bucking his hips up and crying breathlessly, “Oh, _god_ , Newton…”

Newt feels his mouth start watering when he rips down the briefs to free Hermann’s cock.

“If you get any sort of mess on my side of the room, I swear to god…”

Newt’s eyes dart up to meet Hermann’s. “I can stop if you want.”

Hermann’s eyes flash with a look of fear. He shuts his mouth tight and shakes his head.

“Good boy.” Newt grins and licks Hermann’s length. He resists the urge to palm his own crotch when Hermann’s resonating groan shoots straight through him. “God. So good.” He licks Hermann slowly, painfully slow, getting used to the taste of him and getting him nice and slick. Hermann tries his best to sit still and stares up at the ceiling, begging wordlessly. Newt presses his hips hard against the table. “Stay still,” he orders. Herman pants and grips the table so hard his fingers hurt.

Newt breathes deeply through his nose and runs his tongue over the slit of the head. Hermann curses and throws his head back in pain. He sucks the head into his mouth, licking lazily against it and his hand to make a fist around the base of Hermann’s cock. He jerks his hand slowly in rhythm to the way his head bobs. After a few solid seconds of Hermann squirming beneath him, he opens his throat wide and takes all of him into his mouth. Hermann gasps loudly and threads one hand into Newt’s hair, tugging a bit too tight. Newt has to hold back the initial desire he has to bite his lip and instead just groans loudly around Hermann’s cock. Hermann cries out, the stimulation almost too much to bear.

Newt holds one hand on Hermann’s hip and uses the other to hastily stuff his hand down the trousers of his tight jeans. He muffles a curse around Hermann’s cock, and only makes more noise when Hermann shivers around him.

“Newton…Newton, please,” Hermann begs. “I’m going to—I’m so close, please, Newton, please, please…”

Newt manages to slide his cock out from his mouth and pull Hermann down from the clouds and into a sloppy kiss. “Come on, baby, for me, yeah, come for me, come on,” he says, sliding his thumb over the tip of Hermann’s dick and lacing his fingers through Hermann’s. Hermann’s feet skitter across the table and he bites the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes like he’s concentrating on something important. Newt kisses him again, quick, swallowing Hermann’s moans as his hips jerk sporadically. Come spills over and dirties Newt’s hand, but he just grins and bites Hermann’s lip. God, he loves this. Every fucking second.

Hermann collapses on Newt, exhausted, and Newt eases him onto his back, pushing some notebooks off the desk in the process (which Hermann will probably reprimand him for later). He closes his eyes and rubs his aching cock through his jeans, gritting his teeth, in pain. Hermann props himself on his elbows and looks at him. “Newton, what on earth are you doing?”

“Uh. Taking care of myself?”

“Why do such an idiotic thing when I’m right here?”

“I thought you were tired.”

“For someone assigned smart enough to assist in saving the world from imminent danger, you have the most obnoxious tendency for being the thickest person alive. Get up here.”

Newt climbs up onto the table, kneeling over Hermann and leaning down to kiss him. He grinds his crotch against Hermann’s. Hermann howls.

“Christ, Newton, I’m not a bloody teenager!”

“Sorry, you just look so wrecked like this. I can’t help myself.”

“Be quiet and take off your pants.”

“I like it when you talk dirty.” Newt winks mockingly and rips off his boxers as quick as he possibly can. Hermann reaches his hand between his legs and runs his fingers down the full length of Newt and lifts his head to kiss him and the angle is awkward but god if it isn’t the most perfect thing Newt’s ever felt in his entire godforsaken life.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, Hermann, shit, fuck,” Newt says, all in one breath. “God, like you so much, fuck, fuck, so much, ‘ve wanted this for so long, fuck, please, yes, please, god, more, please, fuck.”

Hermann silently kisses him at the same pace, stroking him patiently and waiting for that final violent shake and for Newt’s mouth to go slack and for the moan to escape his lips excitedly. Newt all but falls on top of Hermann after he’s done coming, kissing him gratefully and saying praise as quickly as the words leave his brain to find their way to his tongue.

“That was amazing, Hermann, God, you have no idea, you’re perfect, you’re amazing, you’re the Metallica of sex, I swear, you’re a goddamn sex god, no embellishment whatsoever, no joke, dude, you’re everything, I swear to fucking god.”

“Calm down, you adolescent,” Hermann huffs. “We had inappropriate copulation in our workplace and now we’re both sticky. Hardly something to celebrate over.”

“It’s _everything_ to celebrate over, Hermie baby.” Newt ignores him and smiles as he continues to kiss him within an inch of his breath.

“Child,” Hermann snaps into the kiss.

“Next time we fuck,” Newt whispers into Hermann’s mouth, “I want you to be on top.”

“Newton,” Hermann scolds. “Do at least try to be less crude.”

“Dude,” Newt lifts an eyebrow at him. “I’m literally lying on top of you with a pool of come between us.”

Hermann glares at him and scowls. “Fair point.”

“Kinda appropriate our first time was in the lab, though, huh? That’s kinda hot, right? Scientists are hot now, aren’t they? Well. I mean. At least one is.” Newt winks.

“There’s no use flirting when we’ve already had sex. It’s redundant.”

“Oh, I was talking about me. But you’re okay, too, I guess.”

“Shut up and rest for a while. I know for a fact you haven’t slept in nearly two days, you imbecile. I’ll get us up in a bit so we can clean off and retire to a proper bed.”

Newt grunts and snuggles up against Hermann’s side. He smiles and inhales the scent of chalk dust and soap and just that inherent _Hermann_ smell that reminds him of fights in a dark lab and slightly tipsy arguments over the mindset of a kaiju and the cute way Hermann yawns after too much time spent researching instead of sleeping. He nestles his nose into the itchy fabric of Hermann’s sweater and hopes to god he’ll never have to get up.

“Newton?”

“Hm?”

“Are you wearing kaiju undergarments?”


End file.
